


Yadda Yadda

by MountainMew



Category: Drag-On Dragoon | Drakengard
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4368506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainMew/pseuds/MountainMew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a lot of whatever about the two life-ruiners Caim and Angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yadda Yadda

**Author's Note:**

> I should be asleep. I have places to be, people to see, yadda yadda. Here I am, 11 am, writing a fic for a pair nobody cares about.  Well, a lot of people do, but look, I’ve been crying for like 20 minutes, let me pretend I’m the only one who cares about these two. ;w;

  The sky was once an empty beacon before you. I had traveled it all, to the ends of the earth, yet in all these years I’ve never found something to enjoy. Nothing, but the pitiful humans playing games with life, could entertain me. Our grim sky was nothing short of a lull to put me to sleep.  
   Funny, how nothing is mine anymore. Everything I’ve ever held dear is a shared entity with you. Our voice. Our life. Our sky.  
   Our kill.  
  
   I still hold your hobby to be a fool’s errand. For so long, I felt nothing in you but pain, a hate fueled by nothingness.  
   Don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend you feel any vengeful satisfaction.   
   The smear of blood greets you with open arms. It’s enough for you.   
   And for me, as well...  
  
  Your ruthless nature haunts even my dreams. Somenights, I fear you see right through me. That you see my dreams. With your eyes wide open, it’s as though every night you watch me in my sleep.  
  I want to stop hearing your thoughts. To keep you a mystery for my aging intelligence to unravel.  
  I’ve never asked, but color me curious -- You must like older women, right?  
   Even when I can hear your voice in my head, still you only know how to respond by waving your toy sword around.  
  And for calling it a toy, the appropriate response being to actually strike.  
  
  You remind me much of my own kind, at a childish age. Only able to show affection through mindless love bites and aimless scratches. Metaphorically, of course, though in practice becomes almost endearing. You’re so tiny, I could crush you easily beneath my claw, yet I’ve seen you fell higher foes than I.  
  And still, you’re a damn child.  
  I wonder how a prince has so clearly never seen another being before. Sisters don’t count.  
  Did you even talk to them? Your soldiers may never have known the difference, between you then and you now.  Yet you think about the most asinine things. You think, _I want to tear them apart_ , _I want to swing my sword_ , _I want to punch him in the face_.   
  Do you know nothing of sophisticated thought? What kind of prince...  
  Don’t bite me!  
  
  Sometimes, I wish to break this pact. I long to see how you’d fare, burning to ash, cleansed of your own eternal crimes.  
  This whole world is full of disgusting humans like you, yet you’re the first I’ve met to have such a graphy of kills. Is there any thing you wouldn’t harm? Anything at all?  
  Of course not.  
  
  Why do you insist on laying upon my neck all the time? Even in rest, it’s like I never get to see your face these days.  
  You won’t even give me room to complain. You pet me like a common beast, like you don’t even realize who I am.  
  In the night, I used to always hear you say your piece on dragons. You hate me. Despise me. Would have killed me, without a second thought, were it not for one fatal blow.  
  You were a far off thought, then.  
  
  Now, I want to see you constantly. I never get to see you smile, or laugh. But, your thoughts have found happier memories past the everyday murder haul.  
You adore me. Love me. Would have sacrificed yourself, without a second thought, were fate not so cruel.  
  You are one with I in more than thought, alone.  
  
  Your jokes are awful and clumsy. I almost took you seriously, when you asked for my hand. Feh, how would a kingdom even fare, with a dragon as their queen?  
...  
  I suppose you do need a voice, though. I’m impressed your land had not fallen to shambles sooner.  
  
  There’s no telling where our fighting will lead us. At this point, I wouldn’t be shocked to see us fight the Devil himself in his hell.  
  What matters now is the warmth of your hands sliding across my neck. The softness of your voice within your empty head. The ineptitude of your movements as you feign romanticism.  
  Truthfully, I love you more for your thoughtless bloodlust. The translation of your waving sword means much more to me than your pitiful acts of kindness.  
  
  At the end of our story, I’m a mighty dragon, and you are just a foolish old man.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I felt confident enough in my understanding of Caim to write for him. He’s too good for me.  
> What I do know is Caim is canonically described as "awkward" and I can't get over it. So, that's mostly what I was thinking about. I don't need any more sadness, plus I'm too tired to even come up with anything to compete with the actual games.  
> I just want Caim and the dragon to kiss @ Taro


End file.
